Something Less Than Human I came, through sea waves, misty-brained, My love songs crumbling to shadows, And I was halved to something Less than human. How could I grow Into something more than what I had become? Impossible now, the diminishing returns Of what was given me at birth. Smaller than a baby now, more of a creature Belonging to the forests, of stumps And traps and blood, the day-moon Hanging over me like a sad reminder. I was lost, having become lost, and

Thought Putting aside the extensive facthood of properties and things distributed in space, one has to wonder whether existence’s sense of itself -- the subjective correlative of the world at large -- is a prolonged sensation of horror, a horror that exceeds all the little horrors that we (as feeling individuals) experience over and again.